


Miracle

by trash_elf



Category: South Park
Genre: It's just like high making out, M/M, Shotgunning, Underage Drug Use, also references to catholicism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 15:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15560541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_elf/pseuds/trash_elf
Summary: Stan thinks that Kenny is everything





	Miracle

Maybe it’s the way his hands move across bare flesh, calloused fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. Maybe it was the sour smoke that curled out of his lips and around his head, catching the light and illuminating his hair with gold. Maybe it was his eyes, blue and misty and catching the reflections of your feelings in their glassy surface.

 

Whatever it was, Kenny McCormick was a fucking sight to behold.

 

Stan is positively enamored as he stars up at Kenny from his dirty bedroom floor, joint burning away in his hand. His head feels light and his limbs feel heavy and he feels as though Ken was some sort of angel, just here to look pretty and remind dumb boys why they should believe in god.

 

“You just gonna let that go to waste, Darsh?”

 

Kenny smirks and moves forwards, his body awkwardly positioning itself in front of Stan. He was all joints and long limbs, and the way he curls in on himself looks almost unnatural. Even through his thin t-shirt, Stan can see the outline of his ribcage.

 

Kenny plucks the joint from Stan’s fingertips and brings it to his own lips, inhaling deeply and slowly before blowing the smoke into Stan’s face. Stan doesn't even blink, he just keeps staring at Kenny through the haze, hyper-focused on the way his lips moved as he exhaled and at the gap in his teeth that became exposed when he smirked. Kenny offers the joint back to him, but Stan’s limbs had lost their will to move.

 

“You done or something?”

 

Stan shakes his head slightly and feels as though cotton balls are rattling around in his skull. Ken sighs and looks off to the side almost wistfully before turning back and meeting his gaze.

 

“How about this then?”

 

Kenny takes a long drag from the joint and holds the smoke in his mouth, lifting up one hand and placing it on the back of Stan’s neck. His hand is warm and sticky, and Stan feels as if it is being fused to his skin. Kenny pulls slightly; encouraging Stan to lean forward, bring his head closer. Stan complies, leaning deeply into Kenny’s personal bubble, the smell of weed and cheap deodorant and greasy Chinese food invading him. He opens his lips as he leans, granting him permission to blow the smoke into his lungs. Kenny does as expected, releasing his hold on his breath and allowing it to flow to Stan, who sucks it in greedily.

 

He looks adorable, sitting two inches in front of Kenny, hair messy and eyes lidded and cheeks flushed. Kenny leans forward more, his nose brushing against Stan’s. He nuzzles against him slightly, asking silent permission as their lips brush. Stan pushes back, moving to connect their lips, his hands suddenly gaining back their ability to move as they find purchase on Kenny’s hips. Kenny moves forward further, allowing to Stan to pull him and his mess of long limbs into his lap so that he has a better angle to stick his tongue down his throat.

 

Kenny lifts his other hand and wraps it in Stan’s hair, their lips pressing eagerly together as Stan’s hands grip lightly at Kenny, his fingertips leaving light imprints on slivers of exposed skin.

 

Stan kisses like he is being blessed, for kissing Kenny McCormick is a downright biblical experience. His lips are warm and soft and languid, and Stan can feel his smile against his own mouth when his tongue flicks over the gap in his teeth.

 

Eventually, Stan pulls back, taking a deep and shuddering breath of stale air. He lets his forehead lean against Kenny’s, inhaling his exhales, his spit still hanging from soft pink lips.

 

“You’re a goddamn miracle Ken.”

 

Kenny smiles at this, a low laugh escaping his mouth.

 

“And here I was thinking that I was lucky to be kissing you.”

 

Stan looks at him like he’s insane, like kissing Stan Marsh was the most common thing in the world and like kissing Kenny McCormick was some sort of divine rarity. It has never even occurred to him that anyone would ever look at Kenny and see something shy of awe-inspiring.

 

“You were dead wrong.”

 

Stan leans forward and nuzzles his head into Kenny’s shoulder, allowing his limbs to go back to being heavy as he falls forward, the weight of his body knocking Kenny backwards with a small “oof” so that they’re both lying on the dirty floor. Stan snuggles into Kenny’s side, planting soft kisses on his neck. Kenny looks up at the old glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling and reaches around for Stan’s hand. Their fingers find each other and curl together, Ken rubbing his thumb over the soft skin.

 

“I don’t think I was.”

 

Kenny might not hold himself in such high regard, but he feels like a god for garnering the attention of the boy who is currently curled into his chest. He lets out a shaky breath, wishing to real gods that this could be forever, just him and Stan and some cheap shitty weed and his cool bedroom floor.

 

Stan raises his head and looks at Kenny’s face, which is beginning to reveal the worry and doubt that crawls under his skin. Stan sits up and moves over a little so that he is straddling Kenny’s hips, looking down at his beautiful face from above.

 

“Listen to me this time: you are a goddamn miracle.”

 

Kenny opens his mouth in slight shock, surprised by Stan’s certainty and determination. He would retaliate, but when he looks up at Stan’s soft expression his words die in his throat and his face falls into a gentle smile.

 

“I’ll take your word for it.”

 

Stan dips down, kissing Kenny fervently and passionately, sucking on his bottom lip and gripping at his hand and sides as if he will disappear from underneath him. Kenny raises himself up, allowing Stan to melt into him, and kisses back with even more intensity, letting Stan take a break from doing all the work. Now he is simply putty in Kenny’s hands, eagerly allowing his tongue into his mouth as if he were receiving communion.

 

Stan feels himself disappear into Kenny’s touch, as if he is evaporating and has simply become the smoke in the other’s lungs. His body feels intangible, and the only way he can tell that he is still real is the heat of Kenny’s lips on his.

 

The kiss breaks and they both collapse back onto the floor, heavy and overstimulated. Stan feels his body come back to him, and he sighs a combination of sadness and relief. Sleep is creeping at the corners of his mind, and he can feel Kenny’s breathing even out beneath him. He rolls off him slightly, reclaiming his earlier place at his side. Kenny cards his fingers through Stan’s hair and plants a kiss on the top of his head. His body fills with buzzing warmth.

 

He realizes that is was none of the maybe’s that enamored him, because it was everything.

 

Because Kenny is everything, and Stan was not quite enough, and they fit together like broken people do.


End file.
